The Skyling
by Spottedpath73
Summary: Sauron's powers came from an being not belonging to Middle Earth. He committed an unforgivable sin, and the being he wronged is coming back. My name is Lyraniel. On Middle Earth, I am known as The Skyling. This is my journey of vengeance.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

"Lyraniel!" I hear a voice call out. I turn around to be tackled by Gabriel, my brother. "Lyraniel, you cannot be leaving _again_ , are you? You just returned!" His golden hair glistened and his blue eyes sparkled.

"Brother, you know it is my duty," I reply, brushing off his arms. "Newborns are being born every day, languages are being created as we speak. It is my obligation to learn them and teach them to the young'uns."

Gabriel hugs me tighter, stroking my long fiery locks. "I know," he says. "But I cannot help my wish that my dear sister could stay with me forever."

"Haha!" I laugh. "Brother, our paths cross enough when we journey down. You will most definitely see me soon."

Gabriel sighs. "All right," he said, releasing me from his embrace. "But don't forget to about the wedding!" He looks into my eyes, spying his reflection in orbs identical to his own. Oceanic blue met teal green and sparks flew as humor crept into my voice.

"I won't!" I will my beautiful white wings to materialize from the markings on my back. "Michael is waiting for me there already, I'm sure that it will happen even if we don't return for the festivities," I smile mischievously. I turn to leap down into the white abyss of sunshine as my brother's outraged cries sounded behind me.

"Sister! You can't mean that -!" And my vision burst with blinding whiteness as I fall from my kingdom, cutting off Gabriel's voice.

Little did I know that I would _not_ be marrying my love for several hundred more years. Nor would I be able to return home to my brother and my home for a very, very long time.

* * *

 **Auther's Note: Thanks for reading this first chapter! I'll be updating as often as I can, and please excuse my awful grammar. This story has been floating in my head for several years. I liked it so much, I decided to try my hand at writing fanfic. This'll be my first attempt writing a multi-chapter story in 7 years. I hope you can stick with me until the end!**


	2. Chapter 2: Arrival of the Ring-bearer

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien**

* * *

Sitting delicately in the arched window of my quarters in Rivendell, I start to feel it. An inkling of evil power that is unmistakably Sauron's. Diminished as it is, I won't take any chances when _that monster_ is involved. Thanks to _him_ , I have spent the equivalent of several thousand mortal lifetimes on this plane, creeping impurities eating my power, leaving me weak and frail.

My once-lively hair hung limp around my shoulders, cut short for convenience and ridding my head of dead ends poisoned by human darkness. A thin blanket of film rested on my eyes, weakening my sight; eyes that were once able to gaze unflinching upon the sun's radiance and spy the smallest insect from the sky, now offer me vision more or less equivalent to the Fair Folk. I dare not fly, my wings not excluded from the infection. Feathers fall out every day, and my body wastes away. I am a ghost of the bride I was supposed to be.

I find Lord Elrond before I find Arwen. Because this was of the upmost importance, I hand-sign to Lord Elrond, not wishing to waste any time to find Arwen for mind-speaking. _My Lord,_ I sign, _there is not time for formalities. I sense Sauron's power drawing near this place._

"I am aware," the elf lord replies in calm Elvish. A little too calm for my liking. "The Ring-bearer has been found."

I understand then, but I do not wish to be under-prepared. _Are you sure, then?_ I sign impatiently. _Bringing that power into your home? One of the last elven havens in Middle Earth?_

"Arwen is accompanying them, and Glorfindel protects them," Elrond replies. "I trust them enough to not bring the enemy into our midst. Don't you?" he added.

I stare at him for moment, contemplating his response. An acceptable reason backed by confidence in his daughter's judgment and competence in her guard. I nod and head back to my rooms before I meet the party, leaving Elrond to wait in the silent courtyard for his guests.

* * *

 **Please leave reviews! I'd love to hear back from you!**


	3. Chapter 3: Interruption

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

I pass the next eighteen days in seclusion, hardly venturing out from my wing and making sure I stay out of the way of the new arrivals. Hardy and true, I refrain from visiting the people of one of my favorite races as I also refrained from visiting Bilbo the first few days after his arrival. Aragorn, however, visits me every day, seeking me out in my haunting spots.

 _My dear Hope! You've returned!_ I say in hand-signs. I watched Aragorn son of Arathorn grow from a wailing babe to the wise warrior he was today. "Estel!" my mouth struggles to form the name. No matter how old he was or what names he called himself, when we are alone, he will always be my Little Estel, my Hope.

Aragorn smiles and signs back to me. _Yes, Mother Lyra, I've come home._ I smile in response. He used his childhood name for me, when he could not fully pronounce my name. He also continued to call me "Mother", no matter how many times I forbade him from doing so. I was not his blood-mother, and I did not wish to replace her in his heart. Aragorn instead replied to me one day, "I call you 'Mother' because you are my second mother. You also helped raise me and taught me many things. Is it wrong for me to claim you as my dame?"

As for his hand-signing, it was a habit from his childhood days as well. Aragorn, curious toddler he was, wanted to know why I spoke with my hands. A child of barely four years, I simply smiled and avoided his questions with new sign-words. I taught him, just as I used to teach back in the days when I was younger and freer.

 _Are you well today?_ I inquire. _How is Master Underhill?_. In hand-sign, there are no names, only monikers used to refer to different people. "Underhill" is easier to sign than spelling out "Frodo" or "Baggins", and Aragorn told me about their interesting meeting. Hobbits leave strong impressions on all races.

 _He rose from sleep today,_ Aragorn signs. _You can expect a Council meeting soon, Mother._

 _And I assume you will be in attendance?_

Aragorn smiles wryly and replies in Elvish. "Master Elrond wishes for me to attend. And, I feel the halflings may feel safer if I am present." He pauses for a moment. "Will you be there, Mother Lyra?"

I frown. _You know how I feel about the Ring's presence here, and my dislike of Council meetings,_ I scold him.

Aragorn sighs with a smile. "One cannot help but hope."

We converse at our leisure for a few more hours in the garden, enjoying the autumn sun. Then an elf calls Aragorn away for the Council. "I'll see you again, Mother," Aragorn bows. I smile and nod. _Until our next meeting,_ I sign.

I rise from my seat and walk delicately to my little hideaway. Lord Elrond created a space for me for privacy, knowing that sometimes I needed a place away from company to remember and mourn. I sit on a little white bench in the corner, leaning back against the hedges. Closing my eyes, I sink into the green shrubbery, humming the tune of an old song I sang with my brother when we were children.

Suddenly, a loud ringing pierces my broken ears. I scream, a loud and guttural call of pain. Elves stream into the garden, attempting to soothe me. I cannot hear them through my covered ears. The ringing becomes shrill and my thoughts are scrambled, pain blending reality and perception.

Unable to take the pain any longer, I burst out of the elves' embrace and I struggle towards the sound. I can feel its vibrations quickening as I near its source. I burst through its shut doors and spy the One Ring, sitting on a pedestal, glinting darkly in my face. A scream of rage and a little of my power mixed with my voice stops the sound, and I collapse with relief, eyes staring blankly at the pedestal. That last burst of power let more darkness rot to enter me; I can feel myself sickening already.

I feel large, warm hands supporting me. Voices filter into my hearing, but I don't comprehend yet. I hear a voice calling my name, "Lyraniel! Lyraniel!" I turn toward it, and I see Aragorn's stone gray eyes. "Lady Lyraniel, are you well?" He recognizes awareness returning to my face and smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. "My lady, it seems that no matter how vehemently you protested to attending the meeting, you have come anyway."

I look around to see the stunned, frightened, and confused faces of the Council.

* * *

 **Leave reviews please! Criticism is the best advice for improvement and serves as an excellent source of the next events in the plot!**


	4. Chapter 4: War Counsel

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

My eyes scan the faces of the members present at the meeting. Their faces range from fear to outrage, thinking me to be an undisciplined lesser-elf of Rivendell. My eyes study the little silhouettes of the halflings, passing over the aged Bilbo and focusing on his nephew Frodo. He looks pale, but that is to be expected of anyone who manages to survive a wound from the Nazgûl. His blue eyes are clear of any milky sickness, but a thin sheen of sweat is visible to the careful watcher, stringing his brown hair flat against his forehead.

"Lyraniel?" Aragorn's questioning voice draws me from my reverie, and I focus on the authoritative face in the room: Lord Elrond. I rise to my feet and bow deeply, waist-first to his stoic visage.

When my eyes meet his, my hand reaches for Arwen, who sits at his side. She holds my hand and faces her father. Using her mouth to speak, since my own can no longer serve me with speech, I say in the Common Tongue, "I ask for your forgiveness, my Lord. I...was not myself."

Elrond is silent for a moment, contemplating the situation, I suspect. I see some of the council members' faces morph into surprise, not expecting Arwen to speak in my place. I also spy suspicion on some of their faces, but I am not prepared for Gandalf the Grey's thoughtful gaze. My stomach turns a little, expecting trouble.

"Lady Lyraniel," Elrond begins. My eyebrow twitches. He does not often speak of me in public, for fear that Sauron will discover my location. "My lady, you need not apologize. We," he gestures around to the council members, "were about to request your presence."

I am silent, considering his words. I channel some more power into Arwen to speak, "Lord Elrond, I find it unsafe to hold a meeting of import in such a...compromised...area." I pause, wanting to convey my concern without undermining the elf lord's authority. "Might I suggest moving to -"

"Now wait just a moment!" A bellow sounds from one of the dwarves. "Forgive me for speaking out, Master Elrond, but might I remind you that this is a _private_ meeting? No common _elf_ should have the right to interfere."

"Master Gimli -" Elrond goes to placate the dwarf, but another voice enters the fray.

"Master Elrond, I did not know that your house elves were so disrespectful. Are the elves growing stupid as well as slothful? Your staff should be better informed to the happenings in their house."

And another voice questions. "I dare not say this is an elf, brothers. Though obviously she is not deaf, one must wonder if she is dumb, that Lady Arwen must subject herself to be a simple mouthpiece for such an undeserving personage."

Soon, another argument is taking place among the council. I watch in indifference, scanning the place for a gap to escape to the safety of isolation. Arwen stands quiet at my side, her eyes focused on her father. Elrond's glare shoots around the room, looking for the best way to intervene while Aragorn actively tries to quench rising tempers. Gandalf the Grey, to my surprise, breaks the storm.

"SILENCE!" he bellows uncharacteristically. He looks at me pointedly, eyes softening, and bows his head in respect. He turns to the others and musters in anger, "I understand that most of you do not know this esteemed figure, because her presence here has been kept secret. But as leaders of your races attending a war council that may decide the fate of Middle Earth, I expected you to have a certain degree of dignity! Not the childishness I have seen demonstrated today!"

He sighs, and says to Elrond, "Master Elrond, I believe there was something you wished to say?" There is silence.

Elrond moves to speak, "Thank you Master Gandalf." Gathering himself and his words, "As I was trying to say before, this woman is no ordinary woman. She is not an Elf and not of the race of Man. Indeed, she is not of this earth." Murmurs of speculation sound, but before a question can be asked, Elrond speaks again, "Master Gandalf. I know you have been wanting an audience with her. Perhaps you can introduce her?"

My eyes swerve to watch Gandalf. He takes no notice of my scrutiny and raises himself a little. He meets my eyes, and says unflinchingly, "Lady Lyraniel is a Skyling, a child of the Sky."

I nod slightly. I let go of Arwen's hand and straighten my posture, unwilling to look weak in front of these males. Gandalf, having my permission, breaks eye contact and goes to say to the listeners, "Since the beginning of time, the lady has been coming to this land to teach language. She is the mistress of sound, and tasked with learning and spreading the spoken tongues."

Aragorn gently takes my hand and leads me to his seat. The crowd parts to let me through, sensing a fragility I fail to hide. Gandalf continues, "But thousands of years ago, when she came to this earth again, she was accosted, tricked, and assaulted by the Enemy." I hear slow intakes of breath as Gandalf turns towards me again. "And since that day, she has been unable to return to her home. She is trapped here, her power being eaten away by the darkness prevalent on this land."

Respectful silence pervades the atmosphere. I look away from Gandalf's gaze at the marble floor, wishing I had never entered this room in the first place. A strong and belligerent voice asks Gandalf a question, "I mean no disrespect," the voice begins and we all turn towards it, "but why can't she return home? Why hide here, and hide her presence? Why...HOW is she even still alive?"

"Good questions," Gandalf says. "Master Elrond is more informed of this than myself, him having collected her in the first place and having seen far more than I."

"I would not make such assertations on age, Gandalf," Elrond warns. "But you are right, I am more informed when it comes to Lyraniel's situation." He turns to the questioner. "Master Boromir, she cannot return home because the gates to her home have been shut. They have been shut since her Fall, when Sauron broke her and stole a part of her. Her kinsmen, fearing the Enemy may attempt to take their kingdom, shut their doors and she may not enter until she is whole."

The Man named Boromir looks at me with curious eyes, wondering what Sauron must have taken to have trapped me on this plane. Elrond continues speaking to him, "She hides here for the same reason we are concealing the Masters Baggins' identities from Sauron: she is of great import to his rise to power, and will be instrumental in his fall. She is living with us for the day that she can finally take back what is rightfully hers and be restored to her former glory, bringing the Dark Lord's downfall. Lyraniel lives like us, suppressing her abilities and saving her power, biding her time for the opportune moment to strike." I must admit, Elrond finishes on a rather impressive note, shocking the council into speechlessness.

"What exactly...did Sauron steal...from Lady Lyraniel, that helped him ascend?" Gimli the Dwarf asks tentatively, unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

We all look at Elrond. His serious face darkens a little. "Her tongue."


	5. Chapter 5: The Fellowship of the Ring

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

"Lyraniel, what is your interpretation?" Gandalf the Grey's voice pierces through my muddled thoughts. He sits across from me, waiting to hear the results of my readings of the future. Arwen, Elrond, and Aragorn sit with us on the round table. I make eye contact with Aragorn, getting him ready to interpret.

 _There are only so many things I can see,_ I sign. _There will be many variables involved in this journey. People change over time, the future is not set in stone._

Gandalf watches my hands. "Aragorn, what does she say?"

"She says she cannot see a definite outcome to our journey. There are too many uncertain circumstances and too much time to see," he answers.

Gandalf turns to me. "What about the beginning of the Fellowship?" he asks. "What can you see about the beginning?"

The Fellowship refers to the party of inter-racial relationships the Council hopes to establish as part of the plan to defeat Sauron. They intend to have the One Ring destroyed, weakening the Dark Lord enough for me to take back my tongue. But to destroy the Ring, one must deliver it to the fires of Mount Doom, where it was forged, in Mordor. A strong, united party is needed for such a journey: that is the Fellowship.

I sign to Aragorn, _Hardships are ahead. The Enemy will send his forces against you. Beware of darkness and of betrayal. No matter what, you_ must _continue your journey. Sacrifices made must not be in vain._

As Aragorn translates, my mind wanders back to what had happened in the council room.

****************************************************************  
 _*FLASHBACK*_

 _"Her tongue?!" Gimli cried. "Master Elf, please explain what you mean by 'her tongue'!"_

 _"I mean exactly what I said, Gimli," Elrond said calmly. "Sauron took her tongue. I do not know how he managed to extract that appendage from a heavenly being, but he did."_

 _"Why is her tongue important? Why take only the tongue?" Gimli asked._

 _"Lady Lyraniel taught languages to all the races and animals alike, and her greatest power was over sound. The tongue is most important when speaking, and Lyraniel used to be able to control things with ease through her singing commands. She channeled much of her power through her tongue to be able to do so, so her tongue became a strong adapter for power. Sauron realized this, and wanting to use some of her powers, he realized that he would need to take her tongue," Elrond explained. "I know not of what powers he has gained now, but it is clear that Lyraniel's power has been halved, and she can no longer use her power as freely as she once did."_

 _"But that still does not explain why she has not yet fought against Sauron. If you say that she is the one who can defeat the dark lord, why hasn't she already? You say her power is being eaten by the darkness in this world, so why risk waiting thousands of years of rot to strike?" Boromir asked._

 _"The lady has fought for us," Legolas son of Thranduil interjected before Elrond could respond. "My father, King Thranduil has oft told me of her battle prowress back in the First War of the Ring, how she wiped out scores of orcs with just one note. He told me that the power of Lady Lyraniel is not to be trifled with."_

 _"And yet Sauron still lives," Boromir said._

 _"The creation of the One Ring was an unexpected event we were not prepared for," Elrond said. "With the Ring, Sauron's power grew even more, overpowering Lyraniel's own halved power. Through the Great Alliance she was able to draw out the dark lord from this throne and weaken him enough for Isildur to cut the ring from his finger."_

 _He looked at Aragorn. "You wonder how Isildur and the men around him survived the worst of the dark lord's power. Lyraniel protected them, shielding them and suppressing Sauron's evil. It is a feat that may be impossible for her now."_

 _He turned back to look every council member. "The greatest mistake was made by me, that day," he said sorrowfully. "I allowed Isildur to leave Mordor without destroying the Ring. This tarnished the trust Lyraniel had with Men, and she has stayed with us Elves since then. After his death, I sent out scouts to search for it. It escaped our advances, and Lyraniel has been wasting away here, for thousands of years. She cannot return to her home without her full power, and she can only regain that full power when the Ring is destroyed, destroying Sauron as well and releasing the magic trapped by him."_

 _Gandalf walked forward. "I hope you do not mind me asking, Master Elrond, but there is one thing that has bothered me. You say that Sauron is in possession of the Skyling's tongue, but the magic cannot be retrieved until he is dead. What happened to her tongue? If it remained a magical object, would it not be able to be stolen? The only energy that can be released upon destruction is energy that...has been..." Gandalf's eyes widened. "No...he could not have...you mean to say..." He looked to me and asked me. "He consumed it?"_

 _I nodded. "Whole," I croaked with some effort. The harsh sound of my voice caused him to flinch. I made Aragorn translate again._

 _"Sauron took the tongue and ate it raw in front of her. He had her subdued and tortured before having her watch the spectacle." Some Men hurried from the room, retches echoing in the tall corridors._

 _I signed to Aragorn and he said to the council, "The lady says that though her power has been halved, she still has some measure of power over sound. That will be her greatest weapon in the fight. She hopes that once again, an alliance can be made to destroy Sauron once and for all."_

 _The council agreed, and the Fellowship was formed. With some little eavesdroppers tagging along as well._

****************************************************************

Aragorn touches me lightly. I jump a little, and turn to his face. He was asking me a question. "Lady Lyraniel, are you well? Your complexion is pale." I nod, not wanting to speak further.

"Lady Lyraniel, thank you for doing this." Gandalf says. I turn my attention towards him. "This time, we will not fail, and you will return home again."


	6. Chapter 6: Corruption

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

I return to my room, exhausted and drained from the serious planning for the journey. I grow weary of this world; I wish to return home, back to my brothers, back to my love, back to the way things were before. But first, Sauron's punishment. I have a good feeling about this Fellowship; I feel that this group will succeed, and I can finally make peace with my past.

A knock sounds on my door. Tired as I am, my body tenses again, wary of intruders. After the spectacle at the Council meeting, tensions and suspicions united the rival races and clans against me. Lightly clicking my tongue to create a shield around me, I rise to open the door. As I suspected, Boromir's agitated face appears.

"My lady," he says, shying his eyes from my gaze. His head lowers in what I assume to be deference, or even possibly fear. "I'm sorry for disturbing you this night. I know you must be feeling unwell, but I need to ask you something."

He looks at me, asking permission to cross the portal. I open it wider and step to the side. "Thank you," he says. He steps forward with his head still bowed. Then he looks up, the mildest form of surprise showing on his face as he glances about my charm-decorated room.

I shut the door behind him, leaving only a crack of light to escape. "Did you make all of these?" Boromir asks. He's studying an intricate gold knot meant to strengthen relationships hanging from the ceiling. "And these too?" Boromir points to the murals of my home on the wall. Then he looks at me, ducking under a bundle of lilies tied together by a ring of spotted feathers. "They're beautiful."

I walk to my desk and pull out a sheaf of paper and a quill. _"Thank you,"_ I write in the Common. A high-born lord must be literate, no? _"The papers and things hanging from the ceiling are charms. The walls are images of my home painted from memory."_

"You must have been a great artist then." His hand twitches and I notice a sheen of sweat on his forehead that hadn't been present when he entered. I force him to the wall and draw a knife against his neck. He grunts on impact and freezes when he feels a cold tingle below his jaw. In his eyes, I see desperation. He hadn't come here to make friends, and he hadn't expected me to have superhuman speed and strength. And he definitely hadn't expected me to be armed.

My head pounds from fatigue, and I know I must finish it quickly. Where the hell were my guards?! I enter his mind to speak directly to him.

 _Why are you here?!_ I ask, enraged. _Have you come to take me to your fortune-less kingdom and give me to Sauron for mercy?!_ My voice rings in his mind and he shuts his eyes with pain. His mouth opens in a silent cry.

"H-How do you know -"

 _How could I not?_ I interject. _Boromir son of Denethor, of the House of Stewards of Gondor? I'm not as stupid and isolated as you think._

"P-Please -"

 _Have mercy?_ The knife digs deeper, but not deep enough to puncture skin. _Men are deceptive and vain creatures. Thinking only about their own future, and not the future of others -_

"SAVE MY PEOPLE!" Boromir shoves me to the floor, a sliver of blood trickling from a cut on his neck. "I want to know my people will be protected."

I glare at him. He offers his hand, and I take it. Gripping his hand, I mind-speak. _They'll be protected from you_.

His brow furrows. _You will fall into darkness. A darkness that won't leave you until you choose to release it. I can sense you are an honorable Man, Boromir. There will be no one like you for generations to come, a curse and also a blessing. Beware, Boromir, your end is coming._

"Please, my people. No more about my fate."

 _They will be safe, when the true King returns._

And all at once, Boromir's face twists into a snarl. "The True King is my father," he spits. "That Ranger knows nothing of my land." He throws my hand away and storms out of my room, but not before hearing me say, _It's already begun._

* * *

 **Review, review, review! (or comment) please!**


	7. Chapter 7: Fare Thee Well

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

The next day, I creep to Boromir's horse and tie a charm of peace to the decorated horn of his saddle. Whether or not he notices is no concern of mine. With his hot-tempered demeanor, he'll need the charm to ward the darkness from his heart.

"Mother," Aragorn's voice sounds from somewhere behind me.

I turn. He seems calm in all but his eyes. They sparkled brightly with an unfamiliar emotion. Are those tears I see? On the verge of slipping down his weather-worn face? How long has it been since I last saw him shed a tear?

"Mother," he choked a half-sob. I opened my arms as he reached for me and enveloped in his arms. "Mother, mother, mother, mother!"

I rub his hair soothingly and hum his favorite childhood lullaby. When Aragorn stops shaking, I stop humming but continue to stroke his hair. I should have trimmed it for him last night, it may become more shaggy as he journeys. _What's wrong?_ I sign.

He is silent. I know his answer. _The Lady Arwen, again?_

"Mother, I do not want this journey to be my last."

 _Worry not, my little Hope. How many times must I tell you, I'll always be with you?_

"Mother, one mustn't joke about a situation like this."

 _You think I jest? Oh, dear Hope, no matter how old in Man's years you have passed, you'll always remain a child to me. My son, I will come to you when the time is right. I will come to you when you call me. Though we share no blood, you are still my child that I will always love._ I hug Aragorn, and he finally relaxes in my arms. These tender, vulnerable moments come rare to him; wishing to earn Elrond's approval to ask for Arwen's hand, he suppressed his immaturity and became a Ranger. Only in times of great emotion regarding the lady or me, would cause the emotions to overwhelm him.

"Thank you, Mother. Will you take care of the Lady Arwen for me, as well as yourself?"

 _Why don't you ask her yourself,_ I grin. My son's eyes widen as he turns to see the object of his affection standing a ways behind him. He turns back into that gruff Ranger and not the smiling sapling I'd raised. I turn away from their goodbyes and see the others coming out in the dawn's rays.

Meriadoc and Peregrine walk in-step. Merry bounces about, smiling from ear to ear. He stretches and grunts, "Umph, great day to take a walk, eh, Pippin?"

"A very marvelous day, indeed Merry," Pippin says. Merry and Pippin continue their mindless chatter about the lovely weather and their coming journey.

"Ah! Lady Lyraniel!" Merry calls. "Just the lady I was hoping to see! Can you think of a way to prevent ravenous beasts," Merry looks pointedly at Gimli, who stands warily near the one pony, "from devouring all our rations on the journey? I do dislike traveling on an empty stomach!"

"Speak for yourself, young hobbit!" grumbled Gimli, catching Merry's tone. "You two-legged gophers eat everything in sight! I won't even have the chance to eat anything, because you two will have finished the food before we leave Rivendell!" Gimli sighs and looks at me. "But between you and me," he says conspirationally, "so long as they don't get the drink, I'll be dandy. Dwarves can live through anything as long as they have drink." I raise my eyebrows and nod my understanding. Gimli grins. "My lady, I -"

"Lady Lyraniel, your presence is requested by Gandalf," Legolas steps up behind me. Gimli glares at the elven prince.

"Now wait here, elf, I was -" Gimli blusters. I touch his arm and smile at him. I incline my head in farewell and leave to find the old wizard. Behind me, I can hear a flustered Gimli shouting at an apathetic Legolas, with Merry and Pippin laughing at the insults being thrown. I assume Aragorn and Arwen had a rough parting. I can see it in the way my son fists his sword, and in his sullen grey eyes that look colder than usual. Arwen has disappeared, I assume to either wish for my son's safety, or to watch his departure from a high window. At this age, I trust the lovers to handle their entwined futures.

I see Gandalf standing with Elrond, speaking in low voices. Boromir leans against a pillar, watching them with narrowed eyes and a sullen face. Frodo walks slowly towards them, supporting feeble old Bilbo. Sam hurries behind them, sporting double packs and an array of cooking utensils. Other elves are gathered in the parting place, talking quietly amongst themselves and surveying the Fellowship with varying emotions: hope and good humor, but also desperation and despair. No one says anything demeaning, knowing full well that if this journeying troupe does not succeed in its mission, the elves will depart for the Grey Havens and leave Middle Earth to its destruction.

I smile in reassurance and glide towards the group. I raise my hand in greeting, and I catch Elrond's eye. Two steps later, I fall into oblivion. The last thing I see before the black wave rises up before my eyes, is Elrond's shocked expression as he reaches for me. My ears register panicked shouts. And then, nothing.


	8. Chapter 8: Sickness

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien. I should also mention that I'm only writing from LOTR, not Tolkien's other works, I'm sorry to disappoint. I also apologize for any future offense taken at my inconsistent timekeeping in the story.**

* * *

Pain. The pain. The fiery, burning, hellish pain. Sometimes it sweeps through me as cold and harsh as a winter storm, other times it simmers just below my skin, trudging through my body like molten rock. In my moments of consciousness, I can feel Elrond watching over me, Arwen staying at my bedside, and an ever-changing cycle of elves monitoring my condition. I should have expected this to happen: it was first time in millenia for me to come in direct contact with even a sliver of Sauron's power, and I was suffering for my carelessness. I should not have approached it, should have fled as soon as I felt it. I have been incapacitated, neutralized, and weakened almost to the point of death. Time blurs together: years pass in days, eons in weeks. And when the pain finally slows to a dull throbbing, I fall into a deep, calming sleep.

When I wake, I know something is wrong. Through various exclamations of relief and concern, I hear a false note in their tones. A secret? "Wah," I croak. Someone hands me water. I reach for Arwen, who hovers near the foot of my bed. I sit up against the pillows, feeling the soreness in my body.

 _Something is wrong,_ I state without preamble. _What has happened?_

Arwen, true to her people's nature, is unfazed. "You have been in a deep sleep, my lady. You have been very, very ill. Rest, now." She evades my question with ease.

 _Where is your father?_

"My father is making preparations."

 _For what?_

"The Grey Havens."

I push down my drowsiness. _Where is he now?_

"In the workshops, commissioning ships."

I fall backwards and bite back a curse. I remember discussing the Grey Havens with Elrond as a last escape from Sauron. He promised not to make any plans without first notifying me or exhausting all other possibilities. Does the Fellowship mean nothing but orc fodder to him? He should be called "The Spouter of Noble Lies", sending nine brave souls to journey to their deaths in the fires of Mordor. Are they meant to distract the orcs as the Fair Folk depart? Words need to be had. I move to get up, and Arwen stops me.

"You're too weak! Please, you must rest!"

 _How long have I slept?_

"Sleep, please. Milady, you know you've been growing weaker. You may not wish to admit your weakness, but I - your companion for many decades - I noticed. The rate of decay is increasing, evil is rising. Your appearance in the Council room drained you more than ever before. If those euphemisms you tell everyone are true, would you have been bedridden for these two months -" and she pauses.

I've heard something I wasn't meant to know. Fresh fury and energy rush through me and I sweep back the bedcovers. My bare feet slap onto the cold marble, barely feeling the chilled surface and twinging pain in my limbs. As the weight of my upper body shifts forward, my bones crack and my muscles unfold.

I march through the door and into the hall, fully intent on hunting down the resident Elf Lord. My progress is hampered by my bedridden and groggy body, giving Arwen enough time to pursue me and stop me from walking more than five paces.

"Lyraniel, you need rest."

 _Your father has much to answer for,_ I sign. _The more we wait, the stronger the Dark Lord grows and the faster his agents approach. Before long, they may even breach Rivendell!_

"They've tried and failed, our power is not weak," Arwen says.

 _The Nine will come back, they will do anything for their master. They will be reborn and remade as many times as the Dark Lord commands. You surprised them, that's how you were able to defeat them. They were unprepared, but when they come again, they will come fully armed._

Arwen is silent, thinking. Suddenly my gut wrenches me forward. I manage to wrench my body sideways and Arwen catches my dry heaves in a strategically placed bowl.

 _I'm sorry,_ I mindspeak. My clammy hands grab hers tightly. Arwen doesn't let go, twisting and reaching to place the bowl on a table.

"I told you, you have been weakened."

I release her hand and decide to lay back in the pillows. _What on Middle Earth is that elf thinking?_ I thought to myself.

Arwen gives me water, which I drink slowly and cautiously. I take her hand again. _What of the Fellowship?_ I ask. _I trust they've departed on good time?_

"There is some trouble with that," says Arwen. She's excellent at hiding the tremor for her voice, but she can't hide her emotions. Just as she knows me, I know her as well.

 _I know you lie,_ I say tiredly, not bothering with politic. The hand I'm holding acquires a fresh sheen of sweat. Arwen says nothing. _I shall take care of this myself, soon._

* * *

 **Hi guys, so sorry for the late posting! Springtime is crazy time, please bear with me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll try updating on a regular basis, but more often than not it'll be sporadically or monthly. I also apologize for the awkwardness of this chapter, but I feel the story really needs this transition.**


	9. Chapter 9: Renewal

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien. I should also mention that I'm only writing from LOTR, not Tolkien's other works, I'm sorry to disappoint. I also apologize for any future offense taken at my inconsistent timekeeping in the story.**

 **I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I recently had my computer software updated to a whole new system, and I didn't manage to back-up the copy of this chapter. Hence, I am completely rewriting this from scratch, and my original ideas have been lost. Yay. And I'm trying to rewrite this before a two-week trip overseas.**

 **Aaaand, I'm working on a new story (because I can scarcely read this one book without feeling the need to write this fanfiction, that has stayed in my head since I read it)...But now I ramble. Onwards!**

* * *

After much time, I finally have the strength to move about the grounds with my own power. I'm always monitored when I walk; they are afraid of another repeat collapse. They ignore my protests and grumblings of good health. I've been with them too long to be able to fool them completely anymore. I do not concede aloud, but I know that they are right to be concerned. After the row I had with Elrond, they are correct to fear another collapse from me.

****************************************************************  
 ***FLASHBACK***  
 _Elf-lord, what is the meaning of this? I storm through the doors of the Elrond's study.  I've just been told that you have forbidden the Fellowship from leaving? Why? Do you suddenly feel they are incompetent? You should have realized those fears the moment you appointed them! My hands fly furiously as I sign to Elrond._

 _Elrond rises tiredly from his seat and moves to my angry form. "I meant no disrespect, I simply felt that continuing the journey while you were weakened was a risk that simply could not be taken."_

 _In other words, you truly doubt their ability to complete the task without my aid. I state.  I am honored you feel I can accomplish this much, but it seems you overestimate my power. I sigh. It injures my pride to admit that I am indeed weaker than I thought I would be at this point. I cannot accompany the Fellowship as planned._

 _Elrond takes this information in stride. "We must proceed, but proceed most cautiously." I rolled my eyes, a habit I picked up in the last thousand years._

 _Would you do any different? The Dark Lord is hunting them, hunting us, me._

 _Elrond turned and looked at me. "Is there anything else you can possibly do?"_

And that, of course, degenerated into uncharacteristic crashing of antiques on a polished marble floor and aggressive silences expressing feelings that only a one-sided argument could convey. Oh, the times I long to own a speaking appendage. It would make catharsis much more pleasant and satisfactory.

"Milady, are you well?" Sam sees me approaching and draws near to my side. I smile in greeting. Ever the bashful one and conscious of my state of health, he walks at an awkward distance; enough space between us to catch me if need be, and to bask in the presence of a Skyling. Sam is indeed a sweet and gentle soul.

"Milady! What a surprise! I didn't think you'd want to be with us after that-" Pippin starts to say but Merry elbows him roughly in the side.

"Pippin, we're not supposed to know, remember?" Merry mutters through gritted teeth. Pippin's eyes widen in remembrance and nods his head.

"Of course, like we weren't supposed to know about that Council meeting, eh?" Pippin whispers back in a loud voice. Merry closes his eyes in exasperation.

"Why do I even bother, stubborn Tooks," he mutters again. Then, remembering his manners, he smiles and perks up. "What we meant to say, is that we were told you needed loads of bedrest to recover! You're seriously ill and meeting up with us would only tire you out. Hobbits are energetic and tire out everyone from Dwarf to Elf," Merry glances at Gimli and one of the other elves in attendance. The elf's ice-cold stare freezes Merry, who turns away quickly in a childish manner. The elf bows at me in respect and leaves the room, clearly having too-often been the target of Merry and Pippin's antics.

Gimli, who is sharpening his axe-blade, mockingly replies, "Aye, are you sure you're fit for this journey, lad? It's not one for children to undertake."

Merry draws himself up. "I'll have you know, Master Gimli, that I am an adult in the Shire, and-"

Gimli cuts him off. "Well, you wouldn't know with all that energy you've been exerting. Eating, eating, and eating some more. Topped with the odd lethal and humiliating prank, and snoring like a swarm of buzzards, who'd believe you're fully grown? That's why you're called _Halflings_ in the first place! Because you only have _half_ the maturity, wiseness, and strength of a _real_ adult!" Gimli finishes with a prideful flourish. Pippin sneaks behind Gimli and jumps him. "Oof!" he grunts.

"With the weight we've put on, we could almost be dwarves, wouldn't you say?" Pippin grins.

"Aye, no more than an elf could be a horse," Gimli replies.

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult, dwarf?" Legolas asks. "I could make a point about how dwarves are so stubborn they turn into boulders if they do not eat or argue for a time."

Gimli's hot-headed temper gets the best of him. "Now see here, elf -" He stands up and hefts his axe sturdily in a menacing manner.

I sigh and walk away from the growing argument. Legolas was obviously joking in a way only those accustomed to elf manners would understand. Gimli, a dwarf, understandably feels overlooked and is jumping to save face. Should I try to mediate this situation? Ha, they will be companions for a long time, they should be able to rise above petty squabbles like this. Metal clangs sound behind me as Gimli engages Legolas in a "friendly" spar. Pippin shouts in surprise and tumbles from Gimli's axe as he swings it into action. Merry laughs merrily, and Sam murmurs to Frodo, "Shouldn't we stop this?"

Frodo, who was in the middle of a thought, stumbles out of his reverie with a confused, "Hmm? Oh, yes, yes, whatever you think best...I'm sorry, what were you saying, Sam?" And Sam draws Frodo back to the present, talking about something concerning burning swords.

These cheerful sounds die away as I walk down the corridor. I am enjoying the breeze of the open-air architecture, when I hear footsteps coming my way. I look up and see Aragorn, heading towards that cheerful crowd behind me. He is deep in thought, but I call to him as best I can. I gather him in my arms, glad to see him.

"Mother, you should be resting!"

 _I can rest later,_ I sign. _Meanwhile, what of you? Why haven't you asked the elf-lord to let you depart? The sooner the Ring is destroyed, the sooner you can all settle in peace!_

 _I tried,_ Aragorn signs. _The Master was adamant we do not move until you recovered._

 _I'll see about that,_ I sign. I hug him again and kiss his cheek. _Be ready, son. The dark forces may be stronger than we thought_

 _I worry more for you, mother,_ he signs. _The Master should be in the garden._

I tap Elrond's shoulder harshly, so he can feel my anger.

 _They must leave immediately._ I waste no time on greetings or apologies for our last encounter.

"They are in fact, leaving today," he says to me. His words sound true. "I also trust you were not too upset with being restrained and sedated?"

I ignore his comment and continue, _Why have I been told that you have been commissioning ships for the Grey Havens, then?_

"My people grow tired of this land," he says. "It has been many, many decades since an elf-child has been born. My own daughter was one of the last. Man is growing smarter; they are learning, creating, there is no need for us anymore. We need not guide them, aid them, teach them anything. We are obsolete, memories of a time when evil was everywhere and no one could stop it."

 _So it has nothing to do with my recent illness?_

"Your illness proves the evil is growing greater. There are no more elven armies strong enough or united enough to prevent its spread. My people are leaving this world. Our time is ending, it is Man's turn to rule."

I understand why he delayed them. If the Eye could indeed see into this realm, he would only see the elves fleeing, not a group of vagabonds traveling to destroy him. _How long will it take for your ships to be finished?_ I ask.

"Not as soon as I had hoped."

 _There can be no more delay,_ I sign. _They have been stopped long enough, and even the Ring-bearer is growing restless. He is thinking about the journey ahead, the dangers he will have to face. If he stays any longer, I fear he may lose his nerve, or even worse, forge ahead alone._

Elrond looks me in the eye, to see if I am lying. I stare straight back. There is a long silence. And he finally sighs.

"Very well. First light on the morrow."

 _I will bring them the news._

He nods and turns back to his flowers.

Soon, soon everything will begin.

* * *

 **Whew! Alright, now back to the drawing board for me...unless I finish rewriting the first chapter for my new story first. We'll see how it goes :)**


	10. Chapter 10: Moria

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien. I should also mention that I'm only writing from LOTR, not Tolkien's other works, I'm sorry to disappoint. I also apologize for any future offense taken at my inconsistent timekeeping in the story.**

* * *

Just as Elrond said, the Fellowship departed that morning. This time was not like the last; there was no wasted chatter or movement. Grim looks decorated their faces. The only ones who remained untouched by bleak emotion were the ever-carefree hobbits Merry and Pippin. If only I had retained that optimism, then maybe my "stay" on Middle Earth could be more bearable.

They departed in silence, knowing for sure that this time, they might not come back at all.

 _Do you fear for him?_ I ask Arwen.

"I trust him to return to me."

I nod. I felt that way once, before this happened. I wonder if... _that one_ feels betrayed. Has he moved on? Has he found someone else for eternity? My heart pounds and a lump appears in my throat. It usually happens when I think about home, and is usually accompanied by a deep bout of depression that leaves me gloomy for months.

I shake my head and roll my shoulders, easing the tensions from my body as I struggle to plan for the events ahead. It would do no good for me to wallow in self-loathing and worry in this dark time that I helped cause. It is _my_ duty to repair. Following this righting of wrongs, I will be able to see my love again, my dear Michael.

I look to the sun, and see it rising to the height of noon. Has time passed so quickly already? I walk back the gardens and sit on a sun-warmed bench. I close my eyes and release a great sigh. And then I hum. Harmless songs, without an ounce of power. My body rocks from side to side and my voice rises great height and sinks great depths. I continue until I no longer feel the warmth of the sun, until I remember what it felt like to soar with freely over the lands. I smell the sea brine, I taste the snowy mountains, I feel the damp caves underground, and I remember.

But what am I doing? Why am I remembering? This is not time to give in to weakness. No, I must, I _must_ remain focused. But, that is so difficult. A task so very difficult. Oh, I want to go home. I want to sing again, to dance, the fly without pain.

"Lady?" I hear a soft voice ask. I open my eyes and watch the elf who spoke. It is twilight already. The elf clears his throat. "Are you able to join us for song this night?"

I think for a moment. _Tonight I feel the need to spend some time in self-reflection. Send my regards?_

The elf nods. "Of course. Thank you, Lady." He bows and walks away. He's not one I encounter regularly, so he won't comment on the fact that I have been spending more time for myself of late.

I sigh and rise to my feet, and I drift towards another hidden space Elrond left for me, my meditation garden. An intersection of elements, a compass rose of sorts. It is the place where I can literally be at one with nature, as cliché as it sounds. I can intercept whispers on the wind, listen to gossiping brooks, feel tremors in the earth, and if needed, fire-scry. This is the place where I assume I will be spending most of my time in the upcoming days until Sauron's fall. From here I will monitor the progress of the Fellowship, and I will be responsible for keeping the elf lords informed of the Enemy's advancements. I close my eyes and let my spirit drift.

* * *

Cold wind blasts the mountains under an ominously dark sky. Normal sky does not look like that, there is an unnatural force at work. Barely visible against the white landscape is a staggering line of figures trudging slowly against the biting storm. One man is obviously an elf. He is light on his feet, dancing one the surface of the snow, acting as lookout for the group. They turn around and their mouths open and close. Parts of their conversation reach me.

 _"Voices on the wind!"_

 _"Saruman's sorcery!"_

 _"Let the Ring-bearer decide!"_

Shout as they might, their human voices are inevitably drowned out by the howling tempest. Out of all the words I hear, one stands out the most.

 _"Moria!"_

* * *

I jolt, my spirit suddenly springing back into my body. I gasp, my body completely unprepared for the backlash of my return. The Mines of Moria. A certain trap. Gandalf, wise wizard as he is, deferred to Frodo. Frodo does not know of the dangers of the dark, and they are sure to face death. After the dwarves sparked the Balrog's jealous protectiveness, I never had the chance to mediate the argument; I was still recovering from my Fall and had not discovered the balance needed to regulate my holy power to sustain me for an indefinite period of time in this sin-encrusted land. Though it has been many years, that demon has yet to be appeased. They have enough trouble to face without the Mines, and the Watcher.

This is important news that Elrond needs to hear. I find him as he usually is, poring over books in his study. Arwen is with him, reading over books of her own. I knock on a white pillar to announce my presence. Both faces look up. Arwen shuts her book and comes to grab my hand. Elrond simply sits up and folds his hands. "News?"

"Yes, of the Fellowship," Arwen says. She paused, thinking about Aragorn. "They are heading for the mines."

"What mines?" asks Elrond.

"Moria."

Elrond's expression is unreadable. "What is Gandalf thinking?" He hisses quietly, almost to himself.

"There was...a little conflict. He deferred to the Ring-bearer's decision." I say through Arwen. "Saruman is working sorcery against them. They could not survive against his elemental attack, so they decided on another route." I am calm, Arwen is slightly worried, and Elrond is contemplative.

"No one who entered Moria ever returned, he knows that. It is silent, it is dark, and though it may be hidden from the Eye, orcs breed great and many in caves like those." Then Elrond looks at me. "Can you cloak them from Sauron? Then our Fellowship will not be hindered by Sauron's minions."

"Even if I could, I could not keep them safe from the Balrog." Arwen says for me. "I do not have enough power to shield them from here, nor do I have the tongue to send help. I am too weak to fight him off while shielding the others, and still have enough strength to topple Sauron. The only other alternative to fighting the Balrog is to speak to him, but I have not the tongue nor conduit to speak, and he has not the language of hand signs."

"What you are saying then," says Elrond, "is that their journey into Moria is a lost cause?"

"Yes."

Elrond stands up and walks to the window. Arwen's hand tightens around mine, subtly, so her father will not notice.

"However," I emphasize, "If they pass through to the other side of Moria, they will reach Lothlórien. Once they go there, they will be out of the mountain and I will be able to visit them. Pass along messages, supplies, and the like."

Elrond turns. "Did you not say you did not have the strength to make the journey to Moria? How then, will you return from Lothlórien?"

"Lothlórien is another elf realm. It is purified, hardly touched by evil. Their archers aim straight and true, no orc has ever returned from there alive. I will be safe, I will be able to recuperate, just as I have done here in Rivendell. Both are ruled by an elf lord, both are elven strongholds, and both are sources of purity that degenerate my body at a slower pace than the rest of Middle Earth." I tell Elrond confidently.

"How will you communicate with them?" Elrond asks. "They are not taught in your hand-signs, and so far, only my daughter has been able to withstand your mind's touch."

"The Lady Galadriel is proficient in mind-speak, do you recall?" I say. "Arwen is of Galadriel's blood. There is a chance the only reason Arwen can withstand my touch is because of her. And if neither is possible, I Ido/I have other means of communication at my disposal."

Elrond looks at me fully, assessing my state of health, obviously. I stand up straighter, and form a tighter grip on Arwen's hand. I show him my conviction and determination, and I demonstrate my healthiness and recovery.

"When do you plan to go?" Elrond finally asks after his perusal.

"Not for a while," my conviction carries through Arwen's voice. "They must reach the gates first. A week. I will go in a week. After Moria they will need to rest."

"Very well." Elrond returns to his book. I know a dismissal when I hear one. His was clear, and obviously in frustration of the Fellowship's detour.

I squeeze his daughter's hand in reassurance, smile at her, then I leave. I have preparations to make and a world to watch. I doubt I will need to wait a week for our friends to come out of the mines, so I busy myself with charm-making.

The charm I gave Boromir was a simple peace charm, only the simplest of songs used to bind magic to it. To create powerful charms, I need to attach magic to a physical vessel, then weave it carefully with other charms. It needs to be strong enough to have any noticeable effect, yet weak enough to prevent others from detecting magic. Normally I would use blood as the vessel, but many of our opponents are sensitive to smells. This time, to disguise the power of the charm, I decide to use simple green leaves from the trees in my meditation garden. This way, it will be seen as a simple elven gift, and I will be able to fuse more magic in the charms.

Nine identical leaves I pick off of my favorite tree. I soak them with my power, invoking protection and luck. The leaves become edged with silver and their texture changes to metal. I finish off the charms by rubbing them with mud infused with elven blessings to camouflage my magic. Then I carefully meld needles on the backs of the charms so they can be pinned to the wearer's person.

Just as I straighten my back and wipe my brow, I feel a presence watching me from the door.

"How are preparations?" Arwen asks.

 _Completed,_ I mind-speak. _Now all that is left is the wait._

* * *

 **I have to admit, I had a party when I was writing this chapter! After I got through the beginning, I wasn't hit by writer's block at all! I've even got stuff prepared for the next chapter...**


	11. Chapter 11: Breaking Point

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

 _I follow their journey into the mines. I feel the vibrations of their feet running through the stone halls in terror. And I lose the sound of one labored step. He's fallen. Just as the first set of feet step out from the mines, the first non-orcs or goblins in a very long time._

* * *

Elrond is perusing more books in his study when Arwen and I find him just before twilight. "I am leaving," I say to Elrond. Arwen's hand is warm in mine.

"They exited the mines?" Elrond asks.

"Fled is more like it," I mutter.

Elrond's eyes snap to mine, "What has happened?" Arwen looks at me, too.

"Gandalf has fallen into darkness," Arwen says, her eyes not leaving mine. Elrond's brow furrows.

"And Aragorn?"

Arwen looks at him, surprised her father is asking. Seeing her questioning look, Elrond elaborates. "If Gandalf cannot lead, he would entrust leadership to Aragorn. He is trustworthy, wise, and strong." Elrond looks at me again. "If Aragorn, too, is lost, than we all are lost."

I smile. "Aragorn leads them now."

Elrond sighs. "Thank goodness."

I return to the task at hand. "I have but days to reach Galadriel's realm, I should leave now, while it is dark."

"Very well," Elrond says. "I need you to deliver some things to them as well."

"I will be in the pavilion waiting for you," I say to Elrond. Then I let go of Arwen's hand and I leave to grab traveling gear and supplies.

The first stop is my room, where I have kept my leaf charms. I hid them all around my room; one under my favorite pillow, another under the cushion of my chaise, one drifting across the surface of a bowl of water, all hidden in places where they could not touch my other charms. I gather them together and put them in a small bag I tie tightly around my skinny waist. My white hooded cloak, that I have not touched in decades, I wrap around me. It is the only cloak that will hold during flight and hide me from sight, even Sauron's.

I trek towards the kitchens of Rivendell and stuff food into a large drawstring sack. I take with me several packages of _lembas_ and two wineskins filled to the brim with water. I do not take any cooking supplies with me, because I plan to spend most of my journey in the sky, stopping on the ground only for sleep or brief rest. It would be inconvenient to carry extraneous things for a journey uninhibited by obstacles like rivers, cliffs, and other natural landmarks that take time to cross and circle.

As soon as the bag begins to sag, I tighten the touch leather and the bag's opening shrinks and shuts. Then I heft it across my back diagonally so its strap crosses between my wings. I adjust the bag so it hangs in front of my legs, allowing me easy access to its contest in flight and preventing any of my supplies from spilling out mid-air.

Once I have everything sorted to leave enough room for Elrond's packages, I walk towards the pavilion. The Elf lord is already waiting for me, with his daughter and several attending Elves. "I need you to deliver this," he hands me an envelope, "to the Lady Galadriel." I nod.

 _I will deliver it personally,_ I sign.

"Safe journeys," Elrond says to me.

"Safe journeys," the other elves repeat.

I turn my back to them and draw my hood over my head. I roll my shoulders to release tension before I manifest my wings. They rise from the markings on my back. At first they are dark black, like sketches on paper, but then they lighten to a soft silver. In the sky, with my white clothing and silver wings, I will almost be transparent.

The joints in my wings creak as they are unfurled for the first time in a long time. "Hn!" I wince as the muscles stretch out, too. My wingspan stretches from one side of the wide pavilion, to the other. Large, majestic limbs of beauty. Until the feathers start to die and fall out. "Ahhh!" It hurts to feel the life of the feather shrivel and fall, like autumn leaves on an old tree at a thousand times the speed. I gasp and my knees tremble. I bend down a little to catch my breath, waving away the Elves who try to help me. At this point, I've already lost a third of my beautiful feathers. The pain is already blinding me. Before I can catch my breath and lose my nerve, I launch myself up into the serene blue sky. With five powerful flaps I clear the valley and gain altitude quickly. The warmth of the rising sun and the cool wind distracts me from the pain.

 _I can do this,_ I think to myself. Two breaths later, I am flying full-speed towards Lothlórien.

* * *

The trees passing under me grow tall and strong, in true Elven fashion. Lothlórien is close. The sun has started to set. Flying at my full speed has allowed me to arrive in a little less than half the time on foot. By the time I see Lady Galadriel, the Fellowship will have just reached the entrance of the wood. I land in soft green grass and fold my wings back into me. The wing muscles protest at having to be put away so soon after being released into the world, but I have lost enough feathers for today. I walk the rest of the path alone, until I see elves hailing me ahead.

"My Lady," they bow to me.

I nod in reply. We walk in silence, the leaves rustling softly under our feet. My back aches with the decay of my wings, but it has receded into the dull ache that has accompanied me all these years. My pupils adjust to the earthy, covered setting of the forest. It is beautiful here, much more quiet and flat than the falls of Rivendell, but also much more ominous.

We reach the central tree, where Celeborn stands at the foot of a long winding staircase. "Lady Lyraniel," he bows to me. I nod to him, and I gesture up the stairs with a questioning look. "Yes, of course," he said. I take a deep breath, and slowly work my way up to their reception chamber, close to the top of the treetops. Some Lothlórien guards are stand around the room, each face as impassive and apathetic as the other guards here, no flicker of friendliness or sign of a smile present in their faces. Elves have long memories and lasting grudges. I miss Rivendell already.

From the beginning, the elf lords had wished for me to reside in Lothlórien. Its militic force is the strongest of all the elf havens, and Galadriel's power was the strongest of the three as well. Her people never understood why I chose Rivendell over their home, a true safe haven. Arwen was the deciding factor for me, all those years ago. True, she had not been born quite yet, but I could feel that something great was coming. Of course, I could not outright say I would go with Elrond on a hunch that greatness would come from his house; so instead, I told them that Elrond's wisdom may be a better protective veil than a militic force and foresight. Thranduil's people understood and retreated peacefully to their land. Elrond's people were delighted and apprehensive; they were honored that I would choose to reside with them, but apprehensive that their living space would not be to my expectations and comforts. In contrast, the good elves of Lothlórien took great offense. Was their land not good enough? Did I not feel protected enough? Or was I simply jealous of the beauty and power Galadriel had that I was losing? The lady in question was quite calm and accepting, smiling at me knowingly. She made her people retreat back to their lands and bid me a fair good-bye. Tensions in Lothlórien lessened a bit with the birth of Arwen, whose beauty and unearthly presence were inherited from her grandmother Galadriel. They understood that Arwen was the great one for whom I had chosen the openness of Rivendell over the security of their land. But her house has still never fully accepted my decision all those years ago.

"Welcome," Galadriel's voice breaks my musings and memories. She stretches her hand towards me. I take it as I also smile in greeting.

 _Your hospitality is ever-inviting,_ I mindspeak. Galadriel is the only other being on Middle Earth who can stand my mindspeak, but Arwen has always been the only one whose voice I can borrow.

"What brings you here?"

 _New plans and movements to overcome out enemy._

"I know already of the Fellowship."

 _Of course you have, but I doubt even you have the power to see the outcome of this next war. The final war._

Her eyes narrow a bit. "Do you?"

 _For the future to happen we must pass the present,_ I say. _I am here to help facilitate preparations for the rest of their journey._

"Do you not believe that we can prepare them well enough?"

I take a leaf charm from my waist and place it in her hand. Her hand hesitates to pick it up.

 _It's perfectly safe,_ I say. Her hands picks it up delicately.

"What is it?"

 _Leaves from my favorite tree, enchanted with protection charms. I mean to give them to the Fellowship as gifts._

"You, yourself?" A raised eyebrow and a smile.

I laugh. _You know what I mean. They are coming, you know? You will be the one to greet them and send them away. These gifts will be "yours"._

"How soon?"

 _Your judgement will be enough for this part of the journey._

Putting the charms down, she looks at me. "Why deliver these yourself? You could have sent followers soon after they left Rivendell. You could have even gifted these before they even began their journey."

 _Plans change,_ I mindspeak to her. _You know as well as I, what will happen._ I get up to leave, suddenly drained from my flight. I leave Elrond's envelope on with the charms, Galadriel's name written in elegant Elvish script. _I beg your leave, my Lady. Weary am I from my journey here._ As I turn to leave, I suddenly remember. _The Fellowship must not know I am here. It is not time for them to know._

"And your beloved son?"

 _He can sense my presence well enough. He probably knows even now._ I am wary with what I say to Galadriel. She tries to evoke a reaction from me, I will not give in. She tried to evoke my motherly side by speaking of my dear Aragorn, my son Estel, hoping to see a little weakness in me. I will not give her that satisfaction. She is simply unhappy her granddaughter may choose to bind herself to a mortal prince, and she wishes I opposed as well. But I care for my son, and whatever makes him happy makes me happy as well.

* * *

They enter the forest, finally. Eight footsteps instead of nine. Still in bed, though it has been a mere four days since my arrival, I turn into a more comfortable position. Then, emitting a low groan of exhaustion, I spread my awareness to the edge of the woods. Gandalf is no longer with them. This news should be enough to alarm me, but knowing his origins, Gandalf will soon return. Gandalf no more, but another Saruman. A true Saruman. A Saruman worthy of his name.

As Galadriel's welcoming party leads them toward the center of her city of trees, I curl up more and try to fall back into nothingness. The pain and rot of Middle Earth seeping deeper into me. I whimper as I feel more ache in my back, where my wings have folded back into the markings there. Cold. So cold. I cough a hacking cough, then I drift to sleep, dreaming of my lost life.

* * *

The next time I wake, I know the Fellowship has left. It has broken. I know, because I can feel the deadness of one leaf charm. Boromir. I warned him. A true Man to his end, he indeed died a brave warrior. The rest of the party has been separated. Sam with Frodo, Merry with Pippin, and the unlikely trio of Man, Elf, and Dwarf hunting the latter. I sigh. My time is coming soon.

Still aching, bone-weary, and poisoned, I struggle to drag myself from my nest. Feet delicately treading over the soft terrain I grip the trees tightly as I make my way to the heart Lothlórien, to be closer to purity. When I finally reach the cleanest place in the area, I collapse to the ground, hovering between awareness and nothingness. Someone will find me eventually and bring a pallet for my body. Meanwhile, I must quickly regain strength to aid my son. My time is coming.

* * *

 **AN: I actually wrote part of this chapter while rewatching the movies, on TNT! Things took a lot longer to complete the chapter, because inspiration is different from coherence and flow. Things are boring now, but I promise I'll spice things up when our characters reach Rohan! But gawsh, I can't explain how long I've wanted to write a flying scene!**

 **In the next chapter, I hope to be able to write the one scene I've wanted to write since I began this. If only I can figure out how to get there, and remember the _exact_ details I wanted to use...**

 **Also, sorry for the long long wait. Just moved into college, then a slew of things came blaring through. And I only write when inspiration hits me. Which is sad and inconvenient, but that's how I work. Very sorry.**

 **Now please, review review review! Need more inspiration!**


	12. Chapter 12: Dream Sequence

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

 **I should probably also mention; I AM NOT WELL-VERSED IN THE HISTORY OF MIDDLE EARTH OR OF TOLKIEN'S WORKS. PLEASE DON'T HATE AND JUST GO ALONG WITH ME. I PROMISE I'LL TRY TO NOT MAKE THIS SUCKY. I admit that I am reading up on information that I feel I need, but not all.**

 **Also, as for the various "languages" and "dialects" mentioned here; don't hate on that either. I know that animal communication is still being studied, and my portrayals are definitely not accurate, but guys, please: FANFICTION. _FICTION_**

 **Sorry, writing this is giving me anxiety. I know what I want to write, and I'm trying to write well and update before a year passes...**

* * *

 ** _A long, long time ago_**  
 _I land in a beautiful meadow. I love meadows. While being out in the open makes me an easy target, it is easy for me to spot enemies as well. Everyone knows this is my favorite place on Earth. They see my shadow and come running to greet me. My students flock here to see me, and I welcome them with a hug and smile. Most of the entourage are children, but there are some adults and village elders who come here to learn, and keep an eye on wanderlust children._

 _"What are we learning today, Lyraniel?" asks a boy from the Hills nearby. He speaks in a lower-Hill dialect._

 _"More words, of course!" I answer in high-Hill with a smile. Asgrav, the boy, is here to learn high-Hill so he can impress the daughter of the Hill Chief, Vesuve. Poems and songs are the way to a girl's heart, and Vesuve loves them. Asgrav comes to learn from the source._

 _"What about with me?" asks a pig-tailed girl from Rivermarsh. Little Grenasa wants to talk to learn how to talk to fish. A strict vegetarian, her parents were slightly miffed their daughter chose to subsist on thin riverbank vegetation rather than whole fish, the staple of their village. But because Grenasa is their only child, they indulge in her. The tricky thing is that marine animals communicate through electrical impulses or other adaptive organs humans don't possess. So instead, I taught Grenasa how to recognize fish behaviors of different species._

 _"We are going to start salmon spawn hunger patterns," I say to her. "That way we can observe them when the spawn start hatching in half a moon."_

 _"Actually, I was hoping to review salmon mating instincts," Grenasa replied. "I still can't seem to get it out of my head that they're flying upstream to lay eggs, not to purposely let themselves get eaten by bears."_

 _"All right, we should still be able to find some stragglers on their way upstream," I say. Grenasa beams._

 _My other child-students clamor for my attention. Teaching the children of Men is always more tiring than teaching shy, wary animals. The adults themselves keep a more respectable distance, waiting quietly and watching for predators or enemies in the bushes._

 _When I get the youngsters settled, I see my mature students grouping together in their learning groups. These students learn the same language together, so they work with each other and report to me about their progress at the end of the day. It keeps them busy as I try to teach their children and siblings._

 _Just as I am leaving my last learning group to return to the children, the other adults freeze and the children still, sensing tension in the air. A prickling sensation runs up my spine, telling me there is a powerful being nearby. I straighten my back, arms close to my sides, ready to face the thing head-on. I turn around to watch the rustling bushes as the children run to heir parents, who grip them in frightened protectiveness._

 _He, for it was a he, sets foot into the meadow. He's close enough for me to identify his species; a Great Spirit*, a member of the Spirit Realm, cousins to us Skylings. The Spirit Realm and my own real tended not to interact much; the Spirits preferred to reside in a separate dimension on Earth, while we reigned the open sky. While it was not unheard of for a Great Spirit to seek out a Skyling and vice versa, it was certainly a rare occurrence. I eye him suspiciously. Meetings between two great species generally signaled disaster._

 _"I never expected to see one of your kind in front of me," I say in a low voice, using Common Celestial._

 _He laughs. "However, you wouldn't believe how long I've been searching for you."_

 _"Me?"_

 _"A like-minded being who enjoys acquiring and distributing knowledge!" He says with a smile. I don't return it._

 _He turns at an angle and offers his arm. "Walk with me?"_

 _"No."_

 _He turns back to face me. "Talk with me?"_

 _"What is there to discuss?" He moves to say something but I raise my hand and cut him off. "Or better yet, what do you want?"_

 _"What makes you think I want something?" What a clich answer._

 _"Why else do you want to take a walk?"_

 _"Can't I enjoy a meeting with a beautiful cousin?" His smug face irritates me._

 _"I am busy. I would appreciate it if you leave and reschedule."_

 _"It was hard enough finding you, I do not wish to track you down again."_

 _"It is just as hard for me to find time to teach these people. Do not think you are the only one who is experiencing difficulty. These people are also taking precious time out of their life to see me, and I do not wish to waste it."_

 _"Then I will make this quick. I wish for you to teach me power."_

 _That is strange. As a Great Spirit, he should have power of his own. What is he after? I search his face, trying to find his true purpose. But he looks sincere. Which is even more confusing._

 _"Why should I teach you? As a Great Spirit yourself, you already have power."_

 _"But not the same power you have."_

 _Was he daft? Why would any two spirits have the same power?_

 _"Of course not. That is like saying all the stars should shine the same. But they do not. Because no two stars are alike."_

 _He laughs. "That's not what I meant, silly girl."_

 _I stiffen in anger. Where does he get the authority to call me a silly girl? He sees the fire in my eyes and attempts to retract his comment._

 _"What I mean to say is, I'm not stupid."_

 _Of course not._

 _"I know there are some tricks you Skylings have that you are allowed to share with others."_

 _"Others of my kind, you mean."_

 _"No, others." His expression darkens. "You Skylings are so secretive, you think you're the only ones who can share knowledge? My kind has experimented and learned and advanced than you primitive beings. We've discovered that those powers, or spells that we are allowed to share with others can be taught to most anyone."_

 _I was near bristling as he spoke. "If you came here just to insult my intelligence, please leave. I have no time to waste on you."_

 _"My dear, I am not here to prey on your ignorance, as entertaining as that may be. I am here because I've heard that the Skyling Mistress of Sound is said to be the most open-minded when it comes to acquiring knowledge. I am here, with a proposal," he says with what I assume is his most charming smile._

 _"I am engaged."_

 _He looks crestfallen. "I was hoping you weren't going to say that. Then, onwards to my next proposal! If you teach me your ways, I will teach you mine. A mutual exchange of information?"_

 _An interesting idea, but he still has not earned my trust. "I do not know you, what can I learn from you?"_

 _When he smiles again, I see a flash of darkness in his eyes. It disappears swiftly, but it does not ease my fears. "You can call me Mairon, the Smith."_

 _My eyebrows raise. " 'The admirable'? How humble of you."_

 _"So you know the language of my people? You are a true scholar, aren't you?" He puts his hand to his heart. "I did not give myself that name, but it is the only name I have." His eyes maintain contact with my own eyes, urging me to tell him my name as well._

 _"I refuse. You have nothing I want, and there is something false about you. You try to disguise it with your face and your flattery, but I can hear the sour note in your voice. Do not approach me again." I walk away, about to fly off to my next destination, wings ready to flap._

 _"Can I at least give you a gift for your wedding?" he shouts loudly in the Common. The whole clearing must have heard him. Whispers start in the groups, confused as to why I had not told them about the upcoming nuptials. I could almost hear their thoughts: I ve never spoken about my personal affairs, but surely an important event such as this should be shared among friends?_

 _It would be impolite if I refuse him openly in front of my students, so I reluctantly face him again. He smiles again again and strides quickly, much to quickly for my liking. Why is he always smiling? He holds a hand out to grasp my palm. I open it, to receive a shimmering silver chain artistically crafted to resemble outspread wings._

 _"It goes around your neck."_

 _I look at him with clear doubt in my eyes. It is much too small and delicately made to fit over my head._

 _"May I?" He picks up the chain and walks behind me. Somehow, he is able to open the chain and he places the silver around my neck. When I feel it rest wholly against my skin, I feel a sense of wrongness invade my body. It is oily and cold, but also coarse and burning like fire. I tug on the chain, trying to take it off. "I created something I call a 'clasp.' It opens easily and closes securely, I am sure this will replace rope and leather ties when metal becomes the prime source of industry in the coming years. I m sure you will come to know all about it, when you keep me company in the evenings."_

 _What is nonsense is he spewing about now? Better to leave a babbling fool to himself than entertain such notions. I bend my knees and tense my wing muscles to start flapping, intent on escaping Mairon s delusions by any means possible, but my body doesn t move, completely disobeying my commands. With all the fury I can express with my eyes, I glare at Mairon, silently commanding him to release me._

 _"Don t look at me with that ugly expression, it s unbecoming. Now come along, we have much to discuss." He takes my by the arm and leads me away from the clearing. The children clamor behind me. "Smile at them, let them know you are doing this of your own volition," he mutters in my ear. Against my will I turn and give them a reassuring smile. I wave, and we fully disappear into shadow._

I jolt to awareness when the nightmarish images blur together. My hand jumps to my neck, fingering a faded burn scar from when I was finally able to rip off his "gift" and escape to the safety of the Elves. Sessions of teaching Mairon the language of wolves, the language of death, of mind-speak; the terrible tools he mastered before he decided he wanted raw power over language and stole my tongue and ate my power. I was right, someone has come and covered me with a soft blanket. The sun shines through the leaves of the Lórien trees.

"I trust you have had a restful sleep?" a lilting voice asks.

 _As restful as one can have when they are slowly being poisoned,_ I mind-speak wryly. _Has something happened?_

"I trust you know about the fall of the Boromir. The Fellowship has separated, Frodo and Sam continue to journey for Mordor, while the others hunt after Uruk-hai. Their trail takes them to the land of Rohan."

I wince, and then I shift into a more comfortable sitting position. I can hear the trees screaming on the breeze, and even with the blessings of this Elf-land, I can feel the vibrations of the uprooted trees.

 _Speaking of the Fellowship, they took the gifts well?_

"I did what you wished, I did not tell them of your presence. And you were correct, Aragorn seems to have suspected you were here. Celeborn noticed him scanning our river shores when they left."

 _Clever child_ , I smile. My son's intuition is still as sharp as ever. I stretch my muscles to relieve cramps. _Saruman has been reborn,_ I say to her. _And Fangorn stirs._

Lady Galadriel smiles enigmatically. Another test to see how much power I have left. "Yes. And the creature Gollum has taken upon itself to lead the Ring to Mordor."

 _Yes. As it was predicted, he is still valuable in this venture._

"What will you do now?"

 _How long have I been asleep?_

"Almost a week."

 _I should greet the new Saruman, and offer my counsel. They will need help to pierce through the stubbornness of Men. I will fly to Edoras._

"Your last flight left you in such a weakened condition, you intend to repeat this feat? The land of Rohan is not pure. You could weaken even more."

 _It is something I am willing to risk. I have faith in Men. I have faith in my Hope. It will be one of my last journeys, the time for war is almost upon the horizon._

"Will you not stay longer?"

 _I have stayed long enough._

"Any last requests before you leave?"

I look at her. _You always know what to do. You have no need of my Sight when yours is the strongest on Middle Earth._

And then I notice something different about Galadriel. She is shimmering. Lady Galadriel normally shines as brilliant as the sun and glows as light as the moon, but her light now is just slightly dimmer.

"I passed the test. I will diminish and remain Galadriel, and I will pass into the West."

I bow my head in respect. _My congratulations, I am sure your husband is delighted._

"Do not worry, peace will come to you, too." I did my best to keep the bitterness from my tone, but it appears as though I failed. Galadriel decides to change the topic. "When will you leave?"

I unfurl my wings and stand. _Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Galadriel. I will see you at the end of days._

Galadriel dips her head slightly, the most acknowledgement I will receive from her. She hands me a double wineskin, heavy with water. "For the poison."

I am about to leap into the sky when she stops me again.

"The secret to purity lies in starlight."

I stare at her. Did she just tell me how to harvest pure water?

"Lórien itself is clean, from the air and the trees, to the grass and waters. Water that holds the stars is the purest of spirit. Know this, and you _will_ last to the end of days." Her hand touches my heart, and for a moment, I forget why I am distrustful of her. Our eyes lock together as we acknowledge our past faults, now united against a common foe.

And this time, when I rise to the skies, she does not stop me.

* * *

 _*Great Spirit - I just happened to be researching Sauron, because I was hoping for some sort of physical description to use, before I remembered that he, the other wizards, and some of the elves were actually spirits who (for one reason or another) ended up on Middle Earth._

 **I only had a vague idea about what I wanted to write in this chapter when I started this. So apologies, once again, for the super-late update. I reiterate, I only write when I have inspiration, which is unreliable of me...**

 **AN: As far as my ignorant self knows, these areas don't exist in Middle Earth. If they do exist, let me know. Also, seeing as how I used one of Sauron's previous names in this chapter, I feel I should mention that some of the information I will be incorporating will be, for lack of a better phrase, "ripped off" of wiki...**


	13. Chapter 13: Edoras

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

 **This is the scene that started it all, that inspired me to write this. I hope I can do it justice.**

* * *

The flight to Rohan is filled with rocky plain. I travel with stronger determination than I had when I flew to Lothlórien. The distance is greater, as is the reward that awaits me. I raise my altitude in proportion to the rising earth. I fly even higher when I hear orc-grunts and smell orc-stench.

My strength begins to falter as I am flying over Fangorn Forest. I undo Galadriel's crescent wineskin from around my waist and dip between my lips. A rush of cool liquid glides across my tongue and down my throat, soothing my muscles and aches that I hadn't realized I had. My determination is renewed with the first gulp, and while I had intended on drinking the water sparingly, I can't help but take a second gulp of the life-restoring water.

The sun has begun its descent when I reach Edoras with flagging flaps. I lower myself over a gradual distance as I near the mountain-city. Without bothering to set down at the gates of the city, I fly straight for the palace. Cries of dismay and surprise sound from the ground as the people see me so close to their rooftops.

A few of the guards shoot arrows that just barely skim my feathers, dodging by a hairsbreadth.

"It's heading for the king!"

"To the king! The king!"

The guards grab their spears and clamor up the hill, but it's too late. I crash through the doors of Théoden's great hall and tumble onto the stone floor, panting heavily with exhaustion as my muscles are allowed to stop flexing. I am wracked in tremors and I groan in pain as I feel the poison seeping into me. This place has recently played host to an evil entity, one not as dark or powerful as Sauron, but impressionable nonetheless. Enough for half a decade's worth of feathers to fall immediately to the floor.

The clanging of metal fills the hall and pointed spears encircle me. Warning shouts sound when my trembling hands reach for the wineskin, and a few of the spears poke my hand. I ignore their attempts to dissuade my movement, and I succeed in wrapping my hand around the cap before I hear a familiar voice.

"Stop! I know this woman, she is Lady Lyraniel! You must stop! Let me through!" Aragorn's voice rises above the noise and he pushes his way through the crowd.

No one retreats until an older, more dignified voice commands "Put your weapons down, let him through!"

"Mother, how can I help?"

I am still gasping for breath, unable to reply. I struggle to remove the wineskin from around my body.

"Get her water!" he turns and commands. A youthful guard makes his way through the crowd with a large pitcher of water.

"Here, drink." Aragorn dips the pitcher towards my mouth and I sip gingerly, drinking a little less than half of the water before choking and refusing any more. My tremors stop shaking violently, transitioning into occasional muscle spasms. Aragorn sets the pitcher down and helps me sit up. The guards on the outer edge of the surrounding circle mumble and shake their heads, returning to their guardposts outside the hall.

I take off the wineskin and wrench the cap off. My arms aren't strong enough to fully lift over my head, so I give it to Aragorn and gesture to my back. He understands, and the last of the pure water is poured slowly and carefully on the back of my neck, following the curve of my spine down to my waist. I can hear a faint sizzle as it seeps through cloth and into my skin. I grip my knees tightly and muffle a shriek into a whimper.

When at last nothing comes out of the skin, I relax and shut my eyes tightly. Humming a low arpeggio, I concentrate on absorbing the water and pushing out poison from my back. It's just enough to send tiny rivulets of black down to my hands. Then, it is down and I am finally able to relax.

Aragorn smiles at me while supporting me with his arms. "Yet another meeting you have interrupted, Mother."

I laugh weakly. When I rise to my knees, the great hall has cleared out and I can see more familiar faces. Legolas bends on one knee, head dipped forward. Gimli bows, a little unsteady on his feet. I take a step and sweep the two into a large hug. I make a comfortable sound in the back of my throat and squeeze them tightly.

"It is good to see you, Lady Lyraniel," says Legolas.

"You smell nice," burps Gimli.

Stepping back, I look over their shoulders and see a wizened dignified face clutching a great white staff. He meets me as I walk to him for a hug.

"Yes, it is wonderful to see you again, my dear." A deep inhale of the old man brings to me the smell of horses, hot food, and a windy plain. Underneath those odors is the familiar smell of Gandalf, but changed. A dash of mountain forest is added to Gandalf's usual smoky scent. Saruman's smell was also of mountain forest.

I start signing, and Aragorn translates. "She would like to know what are you calling yourself now."

"You may still call me Gandalf. I am no longer Gandalf the Grey, but Gandalf the White," he says with twinkling eyes.

I sign again. "She is pleased to see you again, back from the dead."

Gandalf's mouth sets in a grim line. "My mission was not yet done, and I am the closest to finishing," he whispers to me.

My eyes turn towards the golden-haired old man. I bow to him, and I remain so until he calls me to raise my gaze to him.

"You crash through my gates, interrupt an important meeting, and greet your friends before me. I should be offended, but in light of these dark and strange times, I supposed I should know you first before condemning you," says the Théoden.

Aragorn translates my flurry of hand-signs. "She apologizes for her behavior, but she could not risk stopping at the gates of Edoras. She has traveled many leagues to come here, avoiding ransacking hillmen and pillaging orcs, without rest. By the time she arrived, she was soaked in Middle Earth poison if she stopped, she would not able to move. She would not have had the strength to look for us either, so she had no choice but to impose herself on the heart of the city."

Théoden listens quietly, unblinking and expressionless. "Tell me this, why can't she speak? And why does she have wings?"

I look at Aragorn and before I can do anything, Gandalf interrupts. "My lord, I can explain that to you later. Might I suggest letting her rest before asking her any more questions? She must not have eaten anything her entire journey here."

Théoden nods. "Yes, of course, pardon me milady. I'm still a little suspicious of strangers."

I sign to Aragorn. "She knows about Wormtongue. She says she also understands what it feels like to be another's thrall, and…" Aragorn's voice dies away as he stares at me.

 _Tell him,_ I sign.

"Can you handle more poison?" Aragorn asks me. "I know what happens to you when you use your power."

 _I can do it, I must make up for being such a terrible bother and this may help,_ I sign.

"What is it?" Gandalf asks.

"Lady Lyraniel has offered to heal the king's wounds," Aragorn says.

"Wounds? I have no wounds," Théoden says to me, confused.

I sign. "She says not physical wounds, but the wounds of the mind. She says she can hear from your body that your mind is holding you back. The fragility of your bones, the aching of your joints, all are tricks in your mind left behind by Saruman's sorcery. She can rid you of those troubles."

Théoden asks, "So you mean to give me back my youth?"

Aragorn translates, "She means to give you glory."

Théoden thinks for a moment. "I would like that very much. And what would you like in return?"

Aragorn translates, "At the moment, she'd like a large bowl of water."

Théoden looks at his steward, who bows and walks to fulfill the request. "When will you heal me?"

I approach hesitantly, asking him with my eyes if I can touch him. He stands tall and stiff, allowing me to stand in front of him. I take his hands and close my eyes. I am weak, but I should have enough energy. I rock my weight from left to right, motioning for the king to join me. I envision a cycling circle of energy changing with each shift, and I hum a low tune, one worthy for royal halls.

I cannot enter the king's mind, because he was not built to withstand my presence. The best I can do is brush his mind by sounding the unyielding strength of mountain and the aged wisdom of the forest. I sing the warmth of sun over rocky moor and the thrum of hoofbeats on ancient paths known only to the Rohirrim. With these images running through his head as well as everyone else's, the king relaxes and I can feel the damage wrought on Théoden's psyche.

I clear away the fog settling over his memories, I chase the nightmares from his subconscious, and I mend the raw gashes marring his self-confidence and self-worth. While there is still darkness lingering within him, I am confident he will overcome it. I start to quickly go over lubricating his joints, stiffened with age and weighed down by false troubles. I tweak the constitution of his bones just enough so he will feel strength, but not enough to give him back the time he lost to Wormtongue's treachery.

When my song comes to a close, I fall to my knees, gasping as I feel more poison enter my body. A cold sweat breaks out over my body and I shiver, in spite of the heat. Théoden looks around him with wide, wondering eyes. He watches his hands open and close, squeezing them shut and springing them open, marveling at the newfound strength in his limbs.

"This is incredible, I feel young again! Thank you for this gift," he says, a wide grin on his face. Then he notices my face and bends down. "What's wrong? Are you alright? Healer! Send for a healer!"

"No healer can help her, Théoden." says Gandalf, stopping the runner. "The sickness that ails her ails only her, no healer on Middle Earth can cure her."

"Is there some way to alleviate her suffering?" asks Théoden.

"The only ones who could were the Elves," says Legolas.

"Yes, the purity of the Elven realms and the Elves were the only thing that could stop the rot," says Gandalf.

Aragorn sees my hand-signs and says, "Wait." He watches my signs, and says to them, "The Lady Galadriel has told her of another way, outside of the Elf realms."

"Lady Galadriel? She and Lyraniel were never on good terms," says Gandalf.

The steward returns with a large pewter bowl filled with water. I reach for Legolas and draw him beside me. I sign to Aragorn.

 _Take the bowl and put it in a place that captures the stars,_ I sign. _I was informed this is the way to capture purity. It will stop the rot just as well as an Elf realm._

Aragorn asks me in Elvish, "Why Legolas?"

 _His sharp eyes will be able to find the clearest spot._

Aragorn relays my instructions to Legolas. Legolas gingerly takes hold of the bowl and sets off to find the perfect spot.

Aragorn helps me to my feet and walks me to his seat. I sit directly across from two children, a boy and a girl, obviously siblings. The boy is ravenous, while the girl picks at her bread. A regally dressed woman is watching the children, most likely the Lady Éowyn. She watches me too, studying Aragorn's hand on my arm.

I recognize that look, the look of love. She is beautiful, and if Aragorn's heart did not belong to another, I would approve of the match. She looks away when she sees me watching her.

Aragorn offers me food from his plate. I take a mouthfuls of the warm soup while Théoden goes back to discussing whatever it was they were talking about when I crashed through the doors.

"Interesting how Lady Galadriel did not mention this discovery in all these years," Aragorn says to me in Elvish. He most likely did not want rumors of him disparaging the Lady of the Golden Wood reaching unwelcome ears.

 _Most likely because I was not willing to spend my time there until just a while ago,_ I sign. _We were finally able to make peace, and she saw fit to help me._

"The lady never acts upon a whim, what was it that convinced her?" Aragorn presses me.

 _The thing that convinced us all; the Ring. She, like the rest of the Elves, recognize the end of an Age and are setting things for the last journey. It is a time of forgiveness and progression towards the future._

"But her pride was damaged when you chose Rivendell over Lórien."

 _And in order to pass into the Undying Lands she had to let go of that pride._

"How did this change come upon her? She cannot have done it by herself."

 _Apparently it happened during your stay in her realm._

Aragorn is silent, thinking about their visit.

 _Perhaps an encounter with the young Ringbearer? Knowing you, you would not have let him out of your sight. But like all good things, you must sleep. And therein lies the weakness that plagues all good things, for even in sleep the powerful are defenseless._

"Perhaps. But I will not make a mistake like that again," he says.

I _am sorry for interrupting your meeting. Might I inquire what it is about?_ I sign to Aragorn, changing the subject matter to the important things at hand.

Instead of speaking aloud to me, he chooses to respond in sign. Speaking to me in Elvish has already drawn others' attention to us, and he wishes to keep his temper in check. _The king intends to flee to Helm's Deep, instead of beginning to hunt down the orcs infesting his lands._

I think carefully about my response. _So he wishes to gather all the people of the land to protect them from orc raiding parties?_

 _He cannot protect his people when he does not have the men. Thousands of his spears are riding north, and he does nothing to call them back. He is giving up hope. He is giving up courage,_ he signs emphatically.

 _He is doing what he thinks best for his people. You would have him leave his people scattered and open to more attacks? The Enemy is amassing his forces and while the Great Eye targets the White City, his successor plots to crush the remaining strong Men, the Horse Lords. He has already destroyed the king's self-confidence with the attacks on the settlements. The king feels he has no choice but to retreat. Yes, this is dangerous, but no more dangerous than letting his people stay open to attack. Indeed, gathering his people at Helm's Deep is the greatest choice he can make to protect his people, even for a while._

 _Those people will still die. It will be like releasing a pack of wolves onto a herd of penned sheep,_ Aragorn signs angrily.

 _Yes, that is true,_ I agree with him. _Which is why you must convince the king to make a stand. You are correct, he thinks he will not be attacked in that ancient stronghold of his people. He is wrong. Like anyone who has tasted power and sees absolute victory, the Enemy will not hesitate to wipe out the race of Men when they are gathered in such a small space._

 _How will I convince him? He will not listen to me, and he will not listen to the new White Wizard. And he certainly won't listen to an elf or a dwarf._

 _If he will not listen, he cannot be helped. Escort them to Helm's Deep, and approach him again with your idea. When his worry for the people has eased, he should be more receptive. But you must be quick. Remember, of all the races, orcs multiply and mature the fastest_

 _I see,_ Aragorn signs. _But we -_

Aragorn's signing is cut-off when Théoden's voice rings through the hall. "It has been decided! We leave for Helm's Deep at dawn!"

Gandalf grumbles and storms away. Legolas and Gimli follow him. Aragorn stands up and helps me walk slowly after them, following them to the sleeping quarters.

"Lady Lyraniel, we have prepared a place for you in the women's quarters," says the steward. I think his name was Gamling.

I sign and Aragorn translates, "She says that she means no offense, but she would prefer to stay with us. With the women, she has no means of communication."

"I understand. I will tell the king," the steward bows. As he is walking away, I make Aragorn call him back.

"My lady wishes to pass a message to the king, if you would be so kind as to relay it for her," Aragorn says.

The steward nods, "Of course."

"She says if the king feels any discomfort regarding the work she did tonight, he can feel to call upon her in the night. However, I must accompany her," Aragorn says.

"Will that be all?" the steward asks.

"Yes, thank you."

The steward bows and we walk in separate directions. I slump heavily against Aragorn, who takes my weight easily. We walk into the room where men lay all around in sleeping pallets. Gandalf is settling into his blankets, his staff within reach of his hands. Gimli is snoring loudly, comfortably wrapped in wool. His axes lean against the wall near his head.

"Lyraniel, my dear, I did not expect to see you here. I'm afraid we must delay our talk. I must leave early tomorrow, and I don't think you will be able to wake in the morning," Gandalf says to my with a twinkle in his eye.

I laugh and smile in understanding. A boy arrives with another sleeping pallet. I direct him to lay it near Aragorn's pallet. I lower myself down gingerly on the mat. Legolas creeps in quietly, stepping over sleeping men to reach us in our corner. His hands hold the bowl of starlight.

"Is this enough time to fully capture the stars?" he sits down next to me.

 _Truthfully, I'm not sure,_ I sign.

While Aragorn relays the message, I lift the bowl to my lips and take a small sip. It is not as cool and soothing as the batch I received from Galadriel, but it still works.

 _It is just enough. Thank you,_ I sign. _I hope you won't mind doing this for me again when we reach Helm's Deep?_

While I pour the water into my wineskin, Aragorn translates.

"Yes, I am glad to help," says Legolas. He lays down and hugs his quiver and bow to him as he turns and drifts to sleep. "Good night, my friends. We have a long day tomorrow."

I turn to Aragorn and sign one last thing before I rest. _As our Old Friend says, I most likely will not be able to get up easily tomorrow. This journey has tired me, for it is the second long flight I have taken in a week. The poison will affect me heavily tomorrow. Do not worry if I do not wake. I am simply recovering my strength._

 _Mother, I wish you strength and help,_ Aragorn signs to me.

 _I wish you love and life, my little Hope,_ I sign back. _And sweet dreams for us all._

* * *

 **Well, this was a fast jump from the Fellowship of the Ring to the Two Towers. Hope I didn't suck too.**


	14. Chapter 14: Helm's Deep

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.**

 **AN: I've realized that my chapters are short. They're short because I name my chapters by place setting, and my thinking and writing are organized by "what do I want to happen at this scene?" I don't think I'm going to change this style any time soon, so I hope I'm not too annoying!**

* * *

I am lifted to awareness with the sound of clinking armor and rushed men's voices shouting commands and curses as they rush around the room. I raise my head and look around with bleary eyes, searching for someone I recognize.

"Good morning, my lady," greets Legolas. I smile in reply. "The king is moving Edoras to Helm's Deep, as planned. Aragorn is seeing Gandalf off, and then he will be here. I am here to watch over you."

I nod my head in understanding and sip some purified water from my wineskin. I still feel weak, so I lie back down and curl into a ball, in case I need to be transported. My breathing eases out again and my heart rate slows, lulled back to sleep.

* * *

The sounds of battle draw me from sleep again. The jostling of the wagon rocks me to awareness as a warg leaps into my vision. Instinctively I scream and my power slashes the beast diagonally from neck to hip.

The orc on top of it jumps onto the wagon and swipes at me with the sword in his hand. I duck and kick his feet out from under him. He falls heavily towards me and I take that moment to grunt and lengthen my toenails to gut him. I succeed in disemboweling him, but the orc grabs my ankle. His grip on his sword weakens and I take it from his hands. I swing down hard, beheading him. Black blood squirts from his neck and I step backwards to avoid it, only to fall onto the ground. The wagon passes over me as the mule pulling it rushes away from the carnage before me.

Most of the first-wave orcs are dead, shot down by Rohan's skilled archers. Riderless wargs feast on dead horses and bite off the faces of dead men. Wounded horses lying on their sides neigh with pure terror in their eyes, while their riders stand defending them from the carnivores. A few of the stragglers attack the defenseless people as they take a detour to their ancient fortress, with the younger unblooded guards trying to warn the beasts away with long sharp lances.

Legolas' golden hair stands out to me, even among the Rohirrim where blond hair is common. He expertly shoots down more of the orcs riding over the ridge in a second wave. The king is shouting commands for the rest of the riders to form up, as he fights off another orc.

"To me! To me! Form the lines! Lines!"

I can't see Aragorn or Gimli anywhere. Presumably, they are safe. Nothing of this level would be able to kill them. But the king's strength is waning, and the riders of Edoras are not as used to long battles as other éored's, having not had to defend the capitol against any major attacks.

I grab a bow and a full quiver of arrows from the body of a young Rider. I let my wings out and fly up so I can survey the battlefield and the next wave of orcs. The purified water has lessened the pain of unfolding my wings and slowed down the rot, but I still lose a few feathers on the ascent. A few of the orcs see me and attempt to shoot me down, but I avoid them easily.

When the second wave is just twenty paces from the line of lances and spears charging towards them, I start a low rumble deep in my chest. With my power, I magnify the sound so it is just enough to distract the wargs from the charge. Deepening the rumble, I disturb the wargs' equilibrium and some of them slow down enough to trip over the paws or be run to the ground by the wargs behind them.

The first of the Rohirrim clash weapons with the wargs. I breathe in deeply, and release a high-pitched scream that distracts all of the non-humans. The horses neigh and rear up on their hind legs. Legolas winces and cries out at the unexpected sound, while Gimli, determination renewed by the shrill battle-cry, pitches forward in battle as he finally wedges himself out of the animal carcasses piled on top of him. The wargs come to a full stop and cower on the ground as their eardrums burst from the sudden pitch change. The orcs unleash a battle-cry in response and the riders attempt to push their steeds onwards, while the fighters on the ground continue to attempt to shoot me down. I send the arrows tumbling down to earth with a powerful gust of wind from my wings.

I fly over the second wave and, letting rage mix with my second cry, I use my power to target the ambushing party; willing warg hearts to stop and orc ears to deafen and bleed. My power isn't enough to kill the rest of them, but paired with my sharpshooting overhead of them, those who I wounded were soon trampled to death by their merciless compatriots.

After emptying two more full quivers, I've killed enough so the king's company easily crushes the remainder party. I fall to my knees when I finally land, the exhaustion from yesterday's journey combining with post-battle lethargy and seeping rot whittling away at my strength.

Gathering more energy, I walk to where Legolas and Gimli have gathered to heckle each other's battle tactics.

"I've killed twenty!" Gimli boasted.

"Are you sure? I could have sworn I saw you pressed under the corpse of Man, Horse, and Warg," Legolas grinned.

"I-! I was just planning a _surprise_ attack!" Gimli answered indignantly. "We dwarves are good at that, you know. We blend in well with rocks. Where would elves or men hide among a treeless land? Nowhere! You'd be spotted instantly!" Gimli grumbles and Legolas smiles indulgently.

"How about you, my lady?" Gimli addresses me when he sees me.

I point at myself and mouth _Me?_

"I saw you flying up there, and every man, beast, and orc certainly heard that fearsome cry you let loose! How many did you kill?"

I purse my lips, thinking. I honestly don't know. I tap my heart and pretend to shoot arrows, then I shake my head and raise my hands in a shrug. I stopped hearts with sound just as much as I pierced them with arrows, but what about the ones who were trampled?

"Ah, yes, you used _magic_ as well. Well, I prefer to count kills where you actually made _contact_ with them," says Gimli. "I suppose the correct question would be: How many did you actually shoot down?"

I think hard back to the events of the battle. I mostly wounded them enough to stop their movement and then allowed them to be trampled or trip up others near them. But I doubt Gimli would accept another shrug as an answer. I hold up an number of fingers.

"Twenty-five?" Gimli asks.

I nod.

"A neat number, I suppose," he grumbles.

"She has you beat," Legolas laughs cheerily. "How many did you manage to slay after you were pinned beneath those animal carcasses?"

"Twenty-four," Gimli mutters.

"And the twenty-five is only an approximation! She's definitely killed more without having to touch them or strike them with her arrows! My friend, she has us beat," says Legolas.

"Aye, and you as well!" says Gimli.

"And I, too," Legolas agrees.

Gimli grumbles under his breath. "This won't happen again, I won't have it! An Elf killing more monsters than a Dwarf under open sky without the hiding spaces of trees or more arrow supplies! And while the dwarf was crushed by filthy beasts because he did not have the strength to remove himself, like an overturned turtle! This is an embarrassment! Next time, next time I'll best him."

I survey the field for the one face I hadn't seen yet. Legolas joins me, and we share a look as we both fail to find him. I scour the land again, closer, but still no sign of him.

Théoden rides over and asks, "Where is Aragorn?"

Gimli looks up from his mutterings. "Is he not with you?"

Legolas strides forward, intent on circling the battlefield. "Aragorn!"

Gimli calls out, "Aragorn!"

Just then we hear a raspy wheezing laugh from an orc lying on a boulder near the cliff. Gimli is upon him in an instant, axe at the ready. "Where is he? Tell me what happened to him! And I promise I'll ease your passing."

"He went for a little dip in the river," the orc laughs.

Several pairs of eyes look over the rocky jut. Legolas runs over and peers over the edge.

"You lie," hisses Gimli.

The orc laughs again, until it drops away suddenly and his face falls to the side, dead. Gimli strikes the orc with the blunt side of his axe, as if he is trying to knock the truth out of it.

Théoden gives orders to the men checking the dead. "We ride on! Leave the dead." Legolas looks at Théoden with piercing eyes. "We have no time to grieve. The enemy draws near. I must see my people safe." The elf looks at the waters underneath him, futilely scanning the white foam for any sign of his friend.

Théoden sees me watching him over Legolas' shoulder. He moves over and says to me, "I am sorry, my lady."

I bow my head. Théoden looks at me a moment longer, before mounting his horse to rouse his men.

"Move out! Helm's Deep awaits!"

I am walking towards Legolas to urge him away from the edge, when I feel Elvish power close to me. I hear a faint ringing, something calling out to me. Following the humming to its source, I find a white jewel closed in the dead orc's hand, the one who laughed about my son's fall. It is the jewel of the Evenstar, the one I often saw Arwen wearing in Rivendell. It surely belonged to my son. Without a word, I take it from the orc's dead grasp and coax Legolas and Gimli from the battle site.

Aragorn would not have died so easily from a fall such as this. He is destined for greatness, a legend for the ages. I would have felt something if Aragorn had truly died.

Taking Aragorn's companions by their shoulders, I lead them to their horse waiting for them. I pat them comfortingly on their legs and smile at them in reassurance.

"Lady Lyraniel?" a quiet voice behind me sounds. Gamling holds two horse reins in his hand. One horse is obviously his, while the other is riderless.

"The king asked that I find a steed for you. The wagon has run off and we need the space for the wounded. This fine beast lost his master in the battle. His name is Mannon may he serve you well. He gives the reins to me and bows, then he gallops away to the head, undoubtedly to join the king.

Mannon is pawing the ground restlessly. I blow on his nose gently and let him sniff my hand while the other pats his neck and combs his mane. I hum a soothing tune, one I found out years ago was a favorite among horse kind. Even Legolas and Gimli's horse, Arod stopped his grumbling and stands still without complaint as his riders wait for me to mount.

I kiss Mannon twice under his eye. Another riderless horse trots by and nudges me. Then another, and another, until a small herd has formed around me. I smile at them and rub their chins. I unbuckle Amon's saddle and place it atop another riderless horse's saddle. I will ride bareback, like Legolas and Gimli. I chuckle when the other horses nudge my legs. I push them away gently and squeeze gently on Mannon's ribs to lead him to the rest of the king's men.

"He's not really dead. If he's dead, I'll find him and kill him again!" Gimli mutters gruffly. "But he's only a Man. Men are like cockroaches, popping up everywhere! And Aragorn's as resilient as they come! But that fall, that was a mighty fall. I don't even think the stoutest dwarf could have survived that fall. What do you think, elf?"

Legolas says nothing.

"Hmph," Gimli grunts.

We plod on to Helm's Deep in relative silence, interrupted intermittently by Gimli's loud snorts. Soon Gimli began tilting to and fro across the saddle. Frequently Legolas and I catch him just before he topples over, expecting Gimli to bluster through a weak denial of his obvious fatigue, but the stout dwarf did not stir from his rest. Legolas and I grin over the top of the metal helmet.

"Are you weary my Lady?" Legolas asks me in Elvish.

I shake my head.

"You are a powerful foe, indeed. I can see why my father spoke of you with much respect. I am glad to be your ally."

I bow my head respectfully and gesture to his bow and arrow. _You as well._

Legolas pauses. "Do you truly believe he is dead?" There is no one else who he could be referring to.

I frown and shake my head again. I place my hand over my heart. _I would have felt it if he had died._

Legolas seems somewhat comforted by the thought, and we continue the journey on in silence. I take this chance to listen to whisperings on the winds. From the North, beyond the shouting and metal clanging of industry from Isengard, I can hear the gentle whisperings of the familiar songs of Rivendell.

 _"He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?"_

 _"There is still hope."_

 _"Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief under the fading trees until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. Arwen, there is nothing for you here. Only death."_

I gasp, pulled out of my scrying. Arwen, my faithful friend, may soon be leaving? "My lady," a gentle hand touches mine. Legolas stands beside me. We are in the middle of a bustling street sheltered in the shadow of a mountain. "We're here."

I dismount gingerly, gripping Legolas' hand tightly for support. I pat Mannon on his rump, and scratch his ears. A guard guides him away to the stables, passing the lady Éowyn standing stock-still after the retreating figure of her uncle.

"My lord! My lady!" Gamling strides over. "The king has asked for your presence."

Legolas and I share a look at I squeeze his hand. "What about Gimli?" Legolas asks.

"His presence has been requested as well."

Satisfied with this answer, the three of us journey up the ancient stone steps into the Inner Keep. Legolas supports me with his arm most of the way up.

"My lords," Théoden greets, "my lady," he bows his head towards me, "thank you all for attending. A moment of silence, please, for the fallen in today's ambush." We bow our heads in respect. "We've reached Helm's Deep, the stronghold of our ancestors. We will be safe here, the Enemy cannot breach these walls…" As the king gives a rousing speech to his knights, I listen to familiar voices on the breeze.

 _"The power of the enemy is growing. Sauron will use his puppet Saruman to destroy the people of Rohan. Isengard has been unleashed. The Eye of Sauron now turns to Gondor, the last free kingdom of Men. His war on this country will come swiftly. He senses the Ring is close. The strength of the Ring-bearer is failing. In his heart, Frodo begins to understand the quest will claim his life. You know this. You have foreseen it."_

 _"I do know this. But I do not intend to help my people to destruction alongside Men."_

 _"It is the risk we all took."_

 _"It is the risk we took when we first faced Sauron, all those decades ago. The Elves have long since fulfilled our role."_

 _"In the gathering dark, the will of the Ring grows strong. It works hard now to find its way back into the hands of Men. Men, who are so easily seduced by its power. The young captain of Gondor has but to extend his hand, take the Ring for his own, and the world will fall. It is close now, so close to achieving its goal. For Sauron will have dominion over all life on this earth, even unto the ending of the world."_

 _"The time of the Elves is over. The time of Man has come. It is their world now, we need only to give it to them."_

 _"Do we leave Middle-Earth to its fate? Do we let them stand alone?"_

A sudden convergence of winds from the north and south sweep into the closed hall and I am hit with more sounds. But most clearly, I hear one clear sentence: _"The Ring will go to Gondor."_

And the shouts of fighting creatures drown out the rest. But not before I hear the tell-tale sign of rushed hooves and heaving breath make its way towards the fortress. I immediately tug on Legolas' sleeve. He looks at me questioningly, but he follows when I pull him towards the gate. I hear it open and, letting go of Legolas' hand, I run down the path towards my son.

I stop when I see him, having ridden the horse to the center of the fortress. He's just swung down when I leap on him, hugging him close. His arms come around me and pats me gently, mindful of the poison. I brush his hair back and look him over for major injuries. He looks as though he should have a bruised rib and a concussion at worst. The blood of Man is strong in him.

He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of my hand. "I'm alright, Mother," he says softly, voice laced with exhaustion. I slip Arwen's gift into his hand and he looks at me in surprise. I smile encouragingly. I support them, after all. Aragorn hugs me first this time, and it is my turn to pat his back.

Gimli's earthy voice rises through the murmurs of the crowd. "Where is he? Where is he?! Get out of the way, I'm gonna kill him!"

When Gimli finally makes it to the head of the crowd, he says in shock, "You are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless Man I ever met!" Bless you laddie!" Then he rushes Aragorn and hugs him just as tight as I had.

Aragorn smiles. Then he asks, "Where is the king?" Gimli, with glistening eyes, nods at me. I take his arm into mine and we walk back the way I had come. We are stopped at the door by Legolas, who has not moved since I left him.

"You're late," he greets Aragorn in Elvish. There is a humorous silence between the two as they exchange unspoken words. _What did you expect?_ I imagine Aragorn grinning. Legolas looks him over, shoulder to shoulder and a slight furrow appears before his brows. "You look terrible," he says in concern. Aragorn laughs and Legolas chuckles. They exchange shoulder pats, gripping with strength and clenching with happiness.

Legolas steps aside and Aragorn pushes upon the mighty doors of Théoden's hall. Surprise is written all over the king's face. He stands up slowly, as if seeing a ghost.

"You survived the fall, then," Théoden states.

"Yes, my lord."

"How did you get here?" Théoden asks.

"Brego, my horse, found me and found his way home. And on the way here, I saw something. My lord, I come bearing grim tidings. I have seen a great host marching here. A great host of orcs."

Silence. "Clear the hall!" Théoden orders his men out until all that remain are Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, his new steward Gamling, and me. He looks into the fireplace. "A great host, you say?" Théoden asks stonily.

"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn answers without hesitation.

"How many?" Théoden's mind starts strategizing.

"Ten thousand strong, at least." Aragorn answers honestly.

Théoden whirls around and whispers, "Ten thousand?"

"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men. They will be here by nightfall."

Théoden comes to a decision and strides out of the room belligerently. "Let them come."

We all share a look. I nod at Legolas and Aragorn, look pointedly after the king, and they understand. They follow him out, no doubt to plan the difficult battle ahead. I walk out to stare across the plain, at the curve of the mountains. The wind blows against my face and I can smell rain upon the wind. Suddenly I feel another presence watching me. Not evil, but familiar. I breathe deep, and a forest smell enters my nostrils. I take a sip of my starlight water. I know who is watching.

* * *

 **Yes, I did transcribe Elrond and Galadriel's monologue, and then edited them to fit my story.**

 **Reviews are always welcome! Because I'd love to know what you guys think about what's happening!**


End file.
